


Fallout 4 Omnibus

by littlebluecaboose



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:50:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebluecaboose/pseuds/littlebluecaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of microfills from the Kinkmeme that don't really deserve their own posts. See chapter notes and titles for details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing Times (M!LW & Elder Maxson)

**Author's Note:**

> The Lone Wanderer is unimpressed with how the kid he remembers is running the Brotherhood now, and gives him a piece of his mind. Public Maxson shaming: fun for the whole family!  
> Original prompt here: http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=16206803#t16206803

There’s chaos on the Prydwen when Eddie and Danse walk onto the main deck. An assortment of soldiers have gathered, doing their best to look busy, and not like they’re just there to listen to whoever is talking to Elder Maxson.  
“You’re talking about things you don’t understand! Who the hell are you to say they aren’t human?” Alright, maybe talking isn’t the right word. Whoever is in there is yelling at Maxson, in a way no-one else would ever dare to. There’s a man in black combat armor leaning against the doorframe, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He looks up as Eddie approaches, intense pale blue eyes meeting Eddie’s, and he frowns for a moment before shrugging and going back to inspecting the floor.  
Eddie pokes his head around the corner, and almost collapses. The man standing in front of Maxson is, well, tiny. Maxson has several inches and quite a bit of muscle tone on the man, not to mention the beard, but he’s just staring at the shorter man in stunned silence.  
“This is ridiculous. What happened to the Brotherhood that actually cared about protecting people? About making the world a better place?”  
Maxson shakes his head. “Elder Lyons lead the Brotherhood astray. We were never created to be a charity, we were created to protect people from their own folly. Technology is the reason the world ended in the first place, Brett. We cannot afford any more damage.”  
Brett’s face screws up and he throws his hands in the air. “Technology is the reason my father’s dream was finally achieved. The Capital Wasteland has clean, safe water because we kept moving forward and kept developing! And none of that would have ever happened if it wasn’t for Elder Lyons. He did more good than you could ever hope to do.”  
Maxson opens his mouth to try and respond, but Brett holds up a hand to him.  
“Don’t try and explain this to me. I don’t want to hear it. I guess I was an idiot to think you’d actually help me and Harkness. And you can sit up here all day and complain about how synths and ghouls are ruining everything and aren’t really human, but I think you need to take a good long at yourself, Arthur, and figure out where your own humanity went.” He turns, brushing past the gathered soldiers. He makes eye contact with Danse, just briefly, before he looks away, shaking his head.  
The man in combat armor is close at his heels, and he gives Danse a look as well, pausing beside him.  
“You’re better than this, Danse,” he says, voice quiet in tense room, and then they’re gone.


	2. Got A Friend In Me (Dogmeat & Danse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogs are magic and make everything better. Spoilers for Blind Betrayal.  
> Original prompt: http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=15807699#t15807699

Danse is exhausted in a way he's never been before, physically worn from days of walking, pacing in the bunker in the interim, but emotionally tired as well. His brain feels like it's been steeped in the sludge from the bottom of the rivers, radioactive and suffocating and dark. It's late at night when he finally sees the faint glow of the truck stop in the distance, and he's never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.  
Most everyone seems to have already gone to bed; he can hear impressively off-key humming coming from the workshop, recognizes it as Valentine's voice. He'll have to do some investigation on the concept of sleep, and how it applies to him now. That reminder stops him in his tracks, leaves him feeling like a void has opened up in his sternum. His recruit had refused to hate him for being a Synth, but what about the others? Even if they don't hate him just for being a Synth, every one of them could still easily turn on him for his hypocrisy.   
He stands like that for a few minutes, in the middle of the road in the early January cold, when he feels something cold and wet nudge his palm. He turns, startled, and sees Dogmeat sitting there, those big brown eyes looking up at him, head on a curious tilt.  
"Hey, boy," he says, giving the dog's head a quick scratch. Dogmeat looks up at him for another moment, before he turns, bounding into the properly lit part of the truck stop. Danse reluctantly follows, and finds Dogmeat patiently sitting inside by one of the unoccupied beds. As soon as Danse sits, Dogmeat jumps up on the bed, putting his head on Danse's lap, effectively trapping him.  
The dog lets himself be moved enough for Danse to remove his shoes and get properly on the bed. He refuses to actually get off the bed, though, and insists on resting his head on Danse's chest.  
It's hard to have a quarter life crisis while being aggressively cuddled by 60 pounds of German shepherd, Danse reflects, and he puts his attention into scratching Dogmeat's ears.


	3. Idols of Clay (M!LW/Harkness, X6-88 & Harkness)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X6 is more than a little disappointed when he finally meets one of the famed A units. The Sole Survivors continues to make terrible jokes.  
> No original prompt.

“-and anyway, as I was saying, the whole creepy special agent robot thing might not have ever been an established concept in the Silver Shroud, but I think a convincing argument could be made for it fitting within the canon of the show-” The Director is talking. X6 had made the mistake of asking Eddie why he had been chosen for this particular bizarre mission, and there’s no polite way to notify a superior that he’s being, well, remarkably annoying.  
A distant sound cuts through the constant chatter coming for the Director, and X6 stops, focusing in on it. A few blocks away, by the sound of it; a fellow courser doing his work. X6 should keep following the Director- Eddie, he mentally reminds himself, the man had insisted that being called Director made him uncomfortable. Not only would it be unspeakable to abandon his own mission, but incredibly rude to the other courser to impede. But the other courser had said something about an A3 unit, and X6 can’t shake his desire, no, his need to see if the courser had been right, to see an A unit in action.  
All of the A units had been decommissioned or been taken by the Railroad long before X6 was created, but whenever coursers found themselves in conversation, it would inevitably come around to them. They were an Institute legend. The original Gen 3s, stronger, faster, smarter, but more prone to misplacing themselves, the prodigal favorite child.   
“Something up?” Eddie asks him, tucking his hands into the pockets of that ridiculous black trench coat.   
“There is an incident about to occur approximately a quarter mile from here,” X6 says, not sure how to explain the situation without sounding subversive. A units were powerful, yes, but they were disloyal to the institute. X6 wants nothing more than to watch one be put in its place.  
“An incident, huh? I love incidents! Lead the way, Robin.” X6 doesn’t bother to ask who Robin is, just turns to lead Eddie through the rubble.

They reach the clearing after the fight has already started. What appears to be a man with pale hair and blue eyes jumps out of the way as the cloaked courser charges him, slamming the butt of his plasma rifle into the general location of where the courser was. He doesn’t seem to have noticed X6 and the Director, so they just stand in silence for a moment, watching as the courser grapples with the other synth.  
“Why are you fighting me? You belong with us. You would be one of the best,” the courser says as he digs his fingers into the other synth’s throat. He snarls, grabs the courser’s wrists, and wrenches him away, throwing him against the rubble and rubbing at his throat.  
“I was the best. I wanted more out of life,” he says, glancing up at one of the ruined buildings nearby, then turning to look at X6 and the Director suddenly.   
Even at this distance, X6 can see the look in his eyes clearly, piercing and pale blue, the color just on the edge of being unnatural. The A3 unit sighs theatrically, then points at X6 and the Director.  
“Who the hell are you? Because if you’re looking for trouble, you’re in a bit deep.”  
The Director grins. “Nah, we were just on our way to a costume party? You wanna come?”  
A3 rolls his eyes, turns to slam his elbow into the other courser’s solar plexus, knocking him back onto the ground again. “Are you gonna keep trying to keep this up, or are you gonna make the smart move and get outta here?”  
The courser snarls in response, and A3 whistles, pointing at him. The courser’s head explodes.

X6 turns to look at the source of the shot, eyes landing on the ruined building A3 had glanced at earlier. He can just make out the movement of a sniper rifle being pulled back in through one of the windows.   
“So, costume party, huh? I never get invited to those kinds of things any more. Must be getting old,” A3 continues, casually, like he hadn’t just thoroughly kicked a courser’s ass, like there isn’t blood on his chestplate.  
“Yeah, and y’know, I just realized that we were supposed to bring a cheese tray and we’re running late already so we should probably get going,” Eddie responds, and someone snorts from behind him. The source of the sound is short, with thin limbs and long fingers, a mess of brown hair, and glasses just barely too big for his face. He’s wearing an incredibly filthy vault suit, and there’s a sniper rifle strapped to his back.  
“Oh God, don’t try to get sassy with Harkness, it never ends well,” the kid from the vault says, fiddling with the strap of his rifle. X6 takes a minute to study his face more carefully, and reconsiders. He isn’t a kid at all, probably somewhere around 30, but the glasses look like they once belonged to a much older, larger man- most likely a father- and with those big, brown eyes, he looks young at first glance.  
“Harkness? You do know that this is stolen Institute property,” X6 says, and the man’s face changes instantly, brows furrowing as he frowns. His hand tightens on the strap, and his free hand strays towards the grenades on his hip.   
“I’m well aware of the fact that Harkness is a synth, yes. But I don’t suppose you know about the fact that Harkness nearly gave his life to defend our home from the Enclave? Don’t answer that,” he says, as X6 starts to point out he doesn’t even know what the Enclave is, “because even if you did know, I’m certain you don’t care.”  
X6 stares for a long moment, mouth half open. Normally, all it takes to get a misplaced synth to lose their allies is the slightest insinuation that they might be inorganic, but this man genuinely doesn’t seem to care, regarding X6 and Eddie with cold suspicion.  
A3 crosses the square to stand by the man’s side, gently taking his hand. He murmurs something against the shorter man’s ear, close enough to be on the edge of inappropriate, though he keeps his eyes on X6. It’s a challenge, plain as day, but there’s something territorial in it too, possessive and protective. The man nods as A3 speaks.  
“Well,” A3 says as he leans away from the shorter man, “I’d like to say this was fun, but quite frankly, I think it’s been a pretty miserable experience for all parties involved. Me and Brett here are going to go on our merry little way, now, and I think you’re smart enough to know it won’t be a good time for you if you decide to cause trouble for us down the line.”  
Brett gives a slightly rueful half smile and shrugs, before A3 turns to leave and Brett follows, hand still laced with A3’s.


End file.
